


Schlaflos

by fish_wifey



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how he turns around on the matt, how many times eyes close and the mind begged to rest, Ryōta cannot fall into Morpheus arms. It's a curse, to feel so uncomfortable in your own clothes, the crawl of a thousand imagined creatures over your skin and under it. Checking his phone for the umpteenth time, the tiny numbers tell him it's past 3 am. He hardly ever stays up later than eleven and sometimes midnight in weekends. Tonight sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schlaflos

**Author's Note:**

> One of the few fics that dared to give /me/ sleepless nights .v.b It goes well with the other where they tend to have minor cracks in a relationship they're still building up.
> 
> Once more, Kasamatsu living on his own with Kise skipping over~

No matter how he turns around on the matt, how many times eyes close and the mind begged to rest, Ryōta cannot fall into Morpheus arms. It's a curse, to feel so uncomfortable in your own clothes, the crawl of a thousand imagined creatures over your skin and under it. Checking his phone for the umpteenth time, the tiny numbers tell him it's past 3 am. He hardly ever stays up later than eleven and sometimes midnight in weekends. Tonight sucks.

It's the ache in his fingers, and they twitch to the thought of what lies behind him -rather, who lies vast asleep and untroubled to the right of his shoulder. It only goes to show how cool Kasamatsu is even when he sleeps; he never snores or makes weird noises, doesn't kick around or hits him with his elbows (-unlike in his the wakened state, or when he suffers from a nightmare), and although he keeps still with few turns, it doesn't creep Ryōta out in the least. No less so, Ryōta hesitates for a iron willed fifth time this night to encircle the form with his arms and body, press it close and inhale this amazing smell only Kasamatsu holds (-he carries it with him everywhere; the scent of the basketball court, those particular Nike Jordon's he never wears and loves to keep clean and boxed for special reasons, a simple soap not overpowering his own odour. It's a cocktail making Ryōta crazy with lust, unable to stay away and rub his nose in the nape of his neck, long enough for Kasamatsu to become red in the face, from embarrassed too flustered to angry and about to hit him when he doesn’t jump out of the zone of his aims).

Fingers keep on curling to a fist, pressing nails into skin the same way he bites his lips. In the past (also known as, every damn time he tries), Kasamatsu reacted badly to the intimacy Ryōta likes to bring in their hazard relationship, even if it's just a hug behind the court of a cuddle on the couch. Kasamatsu had made it clear what he thinks about it, in every wording possible (-and to not call him by his first name when they're anywhere public. The reason Ryōta sometimes thinks it up in his mind, until he switches to the given name). With the clock ticking by and Ryōta no closer to sleeping than he lies to Kasamatsu, he buries himself in the heap of blankets on top. It goes against his wishes to inconvenience the sleeping form or make him angry once he wakes up, regarding Kasamatsu with such respect, he follows the orders of his captain even when they're alone.

"Ah, damn!" Whispering his frustration and lack of touch into the thin cushion, he undresses his shirt in the hope it helps not feeling so constricted anymore, scratching his chest. Pondering on a few ideas on what to do; to go out for a run (-senpai would hit me), take a warm shower (-he'd kick me), or have some easy going fun with himself (-he'd definitely kick me out on the street if I did something along the line).

Bothered by the incapability to find a suitable relief of his stress, he stands up and goes into the kitchen, turns on the light and stands at the sink with only his mind wide awake and nothing to do. Here isn't any better, Ryōta feels even more stupid here (-and the chill crawls over his arms). Hearing shuffling behind him, Ryōta’s heartbeat speeds up, scared out of his skin. Shit, no matter how hard he tried, Kasamatsu woke up, the damage done, Ryōta too stupid with this...

"Could you turn on the little light?" As Ryōta does, automatically doing what he's told, Kasamatsu’s fist slams the the overhead-switch out, rubbing his sleepy, more closed than open eyes as he pads his way over to the counter. It’s troublesome for Ryōta to hold it in; Kasamatsu goes to bed with shirts from his older brother, looser than his own shirts, it falls way too cutely over his loose boxershorts. Turning his head away, he jumps out of his skin again when Kasamatsu leans on his back, an arm around Ryōta's waist.

"What's the matter?"

Ryōta smiles through his worry of being found out, trying to avoid the subject with a stutter, ending with a "Nhgg? Nothing's wrong, honest. I just...can't sleep." He can't possibly tell the truth, he doesn't want to be a bother.

"Why, any reason?"

Starting to fear he's about to blabber, he finds a quick other option. "Got a shoot tomorrow. I feel nervous I guess..." His stomach flutters, Kasamatsu’s complete body pressed against him; softer-than-it-looks hair between his shoulder blade, the warm, t-shirt covered torso, an arm slung around him, knees on his calves, toes to his feet. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you..."

"'S okay." The tone murmurs low, making Ryōta think it's possible for Kasamatsu to be too sleepy to actual function like he'd usually do. He's not a complete terror, but he's stern even when he's playing nice. The softer side doesn’t shine through a lot, becomes a rare and precious gift to treasure, Ryōta doesn't mind the tiny bursts in which they come, the happiness of it intense. As soon as the warmth started to spread and Ryōta thought he could fall asleep standing, Kasamatsu walks away to the cupboard on their side, pulling out half a loaf of-

"Bread?" Kasamatsu’s tone strengthens with the time going by, the mind more awake now, sharp eyes kind and smiling (-people wouldn’t see the difference; Ryōta created himself a guidebook to figure out his senior. He would go as far as call himself an expert).

"Yeah. Friend of mine wanted to be a baker, crazy about the stuff. Never made a living out of it, so he does it as a hobby and drops something every weekend. Taste good though." What follows equals the ridiculous first, as Kasamatsu holds up a big pot of chocolate paste. Ryōta had it a few times on set, knowing the taste to be a sweet, nutty heaven.

"Big brand in the west, never made it too big here. It's fucking expensive too." He takes the pot from Ryōta's hand (who keeps his mouth shut and doesn't tell Kasamatsu how he knows, respecting the Kaijou hierarchy and letting his senior talk without interrupting) and smears it with the knife on the bread, handing it back with a glass of milk. "Here, this sometimes helps me to get to sleep." As Kasamatsu walks off to the direction of the bathroom, Ryōta starts eating, bite by bite, savoring the taste of the brown bread and the chocolate paste, how the milk isn't neutral to it's sweetness. Once done, he washes the little plate and the glass up, and puts them away to dry.

Together with Kasamatsu(-freshly washed hands smelling of the honey and milk soap Ryōta gave him a month ago) he goes back to the futon, settling under the blankets once more. It's dark here, but with one window curtain drawn, seeing him just as well. Even as he tries not to stare, and focus on the ceiling (which he got to know throughout the night) soft words travel to his ear.

"Is it the futon? You got a bed at your place...guess your precious back isn't used to a Japanese futon anymore huh... Maybe I should get a bed too..." The last sentence muttered more to himself as he looks away, yet Ryōta hears it all the same. It makes his heart grow with the kindness offered, creates also a guilt when Kasamatsu blames his bedroom on Ryōta's lack of sleep.

"Well, there's nothing for it now. C'mere." Ryōta blinks at the words, jaw opening as he watched the arm outstretched beside him, fingers twitching with an invitation. "Sheesh, what're you waiting for, idiot? You're usually all over me when you sleep." Ryōta cannot believe his luck and doesn't hesitate any longer, crosses the short distance and settles with a happy sigh on Kasamatsu’s chest (-a steady warm beating just below his non pierced ear, the signature crazy good smell inhaled into his lungs). He feels both arms around him, one over the width of his back, the second barely touching his lower back. It's a treat, hearing Kasamatsu’s quickened heartbeat.

"I'd like to, and I thought about it before I stood up, but you don't want me too." It's out. Better to say the truth and try and evade the steely gaze which would see right through him anyway. Kasamatsu persistence aids him to find it, so it's better to cut the chase and speak about it without being further prompted.

"Can't do much about when you're asleep like a log. I never was able to get your iron grip off me. It's ridiculous, you know!? Once you are shut down, I'm the one waking up and feeling pressured from all sides."

"I'm sorry about it, Kasamatsu-senpai.."

"Mhn? Don't be, it's not like you can always control it. Get's pretty warm and it's a pain sometimes, but it can't be helped." Ryōta feels how drowsy he gets after they're settled like this. A warm hand brushes his hair, the way nostalgia's begs a child to remember, to cry. He never got past associating it to his greatest failure, to not being able to let them win, to Kasamatsu still believing in him without any blame to bear, for helping him up when he couldn't stand. Involutantly, his arms press harder, and he tries to hide his face against the chest. He guesses Kasamatsu notices it, a change of air he picks up on without hearing a sound or seeing a thing. Staying on their actual subject, Kasamatsu’s fingers start to track and encircle traces from the wild past (-faded marks, healed bruises, smartly moving past ticklish areas, soothing away emotional pain to the background). “And I told you...it’s fine if we’re alone if you drop the honorifics, Ryōta.”

When Ryōta doesn't respond, he let’s Kasamatsu figure it out on his own (a sigh never leaves his lips, but the chest rises higher and lowers deeper, as he adds what he’s seen and hear, gathered it to make a case) "It's not the futon, is it?" The movement he makes should be a shake of the head, Ryōta unsure if it comes across while he pressed his cheek into the comfortable fabric of the shirt. He doesn't want to speak, doesn't want to explain his selfish reasons. All he wants is to keep this body, this devilish soul all to himself and fall asleep with this soothing heartbeat song on his ear and the smell in his nose which makes him fuzzy. While hardly any strength remains to shake his head, above him, Kasamatsu executed the same act, free to shift.

"Tch, there's nothing else to be done about it. You airhead; don't hold back okay? If you want to freaking do this ‘cuddling’ stuff so damn much, do it. I won’t be able to tell if you're asleep or not and I've stopped trying to get your arms off me ages ago." Ryōta presses his lips together because he's about to smile too damn hard. The hand in his hair settles, doesn't leave, and lips press warmth to the top.

Ryōta feels safe enough to confront him, fostered by Kasamatsu’s earlier statement to call him Yukio. He’s drowsy, falling half-asleep when he mutters. "You're cool about it now, but whenever I did, I was pushed and kicked and yelled at. Of course I'm becoming afraid!" It's a light tone, mocking. The fingers on his skin and in his hair do not ball to a fist, a different set of legs find their place with and around Ryōta's.

"Maybe I should bench you more, when 'afraid' goes in your freaking dictionary." It's an excuse, the embarrassed tone, the sweet tune. Kasa- _Yukio_ can't get used to it, needing a push in form of guilt to settle him down and grounding him. Ryōta knew it, kept himself at bay to play on it. They ended up like this before, when in some nights, they have to work on their relationship.

"You know what is in my dictionary? The word 'cute', and I have a special picture next to it, wanna know who-?" A knee bumps his inner thigh, and he's not sure how half-hearted the attempt was meant, the motion does other things to his drowsy mind. It's no use though, getting worked up now. It's close to 4 am, and they have school tomorrow... Yukio's arms pull for a second, flexing his muscles in a last move before sleep would take him. Lips to Ryōta's forehead, muttering.

"But really, 'worried about a shoot', like I believe that kind of bullshit. You're handsome, and you damn well know it." Ryōta takes the hit on his head with a soft laughter on cotton and doesn't reply; he's well on his way to a dreamless sleep.


End file.
